She closes her eyes and lets herself drift off into a daydream, her hands tugging at the hem of her tee shirt, still clingy to her skin she found it v...ery uncomfortable for her new thoughts. Biting her bottom lip, her fingers gently prize the shirt off her stomach, rolling it up to just under neath her breasts. She let her fingers wander up and down her stomach, tickling and stroking herself while straying nearer and nearer towards the edge of her panties. Her thoughts now filled with nothing. I wasn’t sure just when it would show up, but I was not surprised when it did. I started to hear the gripes about “I’m bored with all of this marching around and poking holes in the air. When are we going to kill some demons?”The only way to quell this kind of disquiet was to have an actual demonstration of the “why” of this apparently useless practice. Therefore, I promised to have a battle with demons as soon as a suitable group could be found. At the end of the day’s session, I asked. One shoe went flying across the room; the other fell offhis foot and lay on the bed. He landed on his side, where he could faceme. He stammered and searched for words, then finally said, "It's notwhat you think!" Oh," I said, "what do I think?" I walked into the room and stood bythe bed."I'm not queer or anything."I needed a minute to take it all in, walking around the bed as Ithought about what I was seeing. This was wild. I have never seen himact like this before - not just the little love. Mos' fellers jes' don't lust after the ol' women the way they does after the young cooze-- that's a fact. An' when they do get a-itchin' after some old cooze, i'tain't their own mothers they likely be wantin' t' stick the prod t'. I often thought, what most a' these sorry fucks really want is each other's mothers--they should start a club an' swap the ol' cunts. I always use t' hear, when I was a kid, that niggers fuck their mothers, but I don't even pay that much mind no more. Far as I kin.